Lunchtime
by Felandris09
Summary: Trevelyan and Cullen have a picnic. Things get sticky.


The idle tune of a pair of birds is pleasantly resounding from somewhere up in the labyrinth of thick branches at the top of the ancient oak; it is the only sound to be heard around the small, tree-lined glade along with the quiet whisper of the light August breeze.

Trevelyan is wearing her hair down with a couple of strands tucked in behind her ears. Her light cotton dress is short-sleeved, and she notices a dusting of freckles on her upper arms. She is sitting cross-legged on a thick woven blanket in the comfortably cool shade of the oak's huge expanse, escaping the searing rays of the mid-day sun.

There is a humble lunch spread out before her- some bread and butter, meat and cheese, a bit of fruit,- just enough for two people who know they will be spoiled with another large dinner later, courtesy of the new cook whose son the Inquisition had rescued from a life of crime.

Morning had been quiet with little to do, and the afternoon promises not to be too much busier, so she and Cullen have come out here. Surprisingly enough it is still their little hideout, seemingly undiscovered despite its proximity to Skyhold. They don't get to come here that often, so every time they do make it is a little reward for long hours of hard work that they still put in despite the fighting having largely ceased.

Beside her, Cullen is taking a healthy bite off a large wedge of tangy ram cheese, so engrossed that he is oblivious to the delighted smacking noises that escape him as he chews.

A wide grin spreads across her face when she notices it's from the batch that Denerim Palace had sent the other week. King Alistair had most successfully managed to pass his love of all things cheese on to her commander, instilling an enthusiasm she had only seen him display towards chess or training ( _and probably lovemaking_ ).

She is happy to have preserved their friendship with Ferelden's ruler, and they were delighted when news broke of his impending betrothal to a local Arl's daughter. Whereas war table conversations on the matter were all about the political benefits of the union to Thedas, they are both sincere in their hope that Alistair will find the happiness he so deserves.

Cullen catches her musing and raises his eyebrows in amused curiosity. "What is it, love?" he asks around a mouthful of artisan dairy product.

"Nothing," she grins back at him, "I was just watching you devour that cheese."

His scar rises up along his cheek as the corner of his mouth curls in a half-smile, and there is that playfully saucy humour in his voice that he only summons when he is relaxed, free of stress. "Would you rather I devour something else?"

She leans in, coyly cocking her head. "Why, what could _that_ be?"

Without even bothering for a smart answer, he leans in to kiss her, pulling her towards him as his tongue gently pries her mouth open, coaxing a content little noise out of her.

He grins when her hands sneak out to grasp his curls, like she does often, for so many different reasons.

They take their time, and their kiss is languid, playful, their lips fluttering against each other as they enjoy their little break, alone together. Their soft sighs accompany the gentle whisper of the breeze as their hands roam across each other's backs, tickling, rubbing and stroking.

Gradually their breathing picks up as they want more of each other, and her fingers start unbuttoning his shirt, interrupted only by the swift movement of her dress being pulled over her head. Immediately his palms are stretched out flat over her breastband, his thumbs seeking out her nipples. She gasps and he smiles when the peaks harden under his touch, and she feels another hardness starting to poke at her.

Something else besides affectionate lust appears in his eyes, and he lies her down onto her back, placing a quick peck on her forehead before he gets up to rummage around.

Bracing herself on her elbows, her curious gaze follows him as he packs away the food into the large wicker basket they brought. When he is done, he removes something from its confines. Her eyes widen as she recognises the jar of honey, and a small silver spoon.

Before she can comment, he is back hovering over her- along with his trademark smirk. "Now, where were we?"

Continuing where he left off, he gently massages her breasts while sucking on that delicate spot at the crook of her neck, and she yelps, raising her hips to meet his. A set of hands under her back, a quick fumble, and her peaks stiffen a little more as the wind strokes across them.

She is just in her bottom smalls now and begins fumbling with the laces of his trousers, opening them just wide enough so she can slide her hands in at the back and squeeze those taut, muscular cheeks. He smiles, leans down to kiss her again, and her eyes fall closed.

She opens them again soon after, jerking up as she feels a sticky drizzle on the centre of her chest. A puff of breath, then the wet, warm sensation of a tongue lapping up the sweet nectar, and she strokes his head, sighing.

The smallest, syrupy sprinkle on her nipple, then those soft lips close around it. Her mouth opens and her hips rise in anticipation; but he pauses, leaves her waiting before he sucks hard, and she moans as a bolt of arousal shoots through her centre, leaving her pleasantly moist.

Lust clouds his amber eyes, lies heavy on his voice as he purrs, "Two of my favourite flavours."

A drop on her other peak, already so hard. This time he circles it with that strong tongue then laps, then bites softly, pulling the nipple with his teeth. She groans, low and hungry. Wants him now.

She looks at him. "Cullen, please."

He grins and obliges, not without pulling her in for a scorching kiss that is sweet, sticky and suitably wild for their surroundings.

Her smalls come off, and he lifts the damp garment to his face, holding her stare as he inhales her scent. He spreads her legs, admires her slickness for a second but isn't distracted for too long. There is more urgency to his movements now as he sheds his boots then his trousers along with his underpants.

She whimpers when his manhood bobs out of its confines, licks her lips as he sits down again, inspecting the delectably inviting erection jutting out from that coarse patch of dark hair. There is a raw, sumptuous masculinity about the way he sits there in all his naked glory, broad, strong and beautiful.

She crooks a finger at him and he grins, then surprises her as he crouches towards her and pulls her into his lap.

He is sitting on his shins as she straddles him, which cannot be comfortable, but the look in his eyes tells her he's beyond caring.

They both exhale sharply as she takes him in, sliding in to her slick heat like they'll never get enough of.

A little romp of the tongues before she grabs hold of his shoulders and raises her hips then sinks down onto him again. They moan.

This has to be their favourite position; they're skin to skin, looking at each other, and she loves the leverage. Cullen appreciates the proximity of her breasts, his beloved toys. Bending forward slightly, he takes the soft mounds in his hands, runs his tongue across the nipples then blows. Smiling when he feels her shudder around him, he does it again before he takes one of the peaks between his lips and suckles on her, his brow furrowed in bliss. He grabs her bottom, squeezes the round globes, hums around her still-sticky peak.

She rides him harder, holding on to his forearms, and they're breathing hard, absorbed in each other, oblivious to everything around them.

Her hand sneaks down between her legs, and he breaks his kiss to her breast to watch her pleasure herself, never missing a beat, raising his hips up into her in the sweetest of rhythms.

Making sure to look at him, she starts rubbing her fingertips around her swollen nub, moaning lasciviously as that lewd tingle shoots through her. She knows how much it arouses him to watch her masturbating, especially when he's pounding into her like he is now.

He, in turn, has long figured out the effect his voice has on her, on how it entices her when he talks to her during sex.

"Yes," he whispers, following the movements of her hand, "good, keep going. I want to feel you come around my hard cock." She sobs out an incomprehensible affirmation, and he continues. "I want to feel every little drop of your sweet juice trickling down onto me before I spurt into you."

Rays of sunshine appear behind her now-closed eyes, or perhaps it is the beginning flashes of her release. Her head falls onto his shoulder and she sobs into it as her body is wracked with tremors. Sweat runs down her temples, and her entire being is floating with the release of her lust, with her love for him.

His hips piston upwards into her, seeking the heat, the clench of her climax, and he comes undone as well, groaning quietly, clinging on to her as his buttocks tense and he, too trembles. She feels him swell inside her, the hot spray of his seed coating her, and it feels so good, so right.

They stay sitting up together until they are able to open their eyes and share a lazy, giddy grin.

His hands support her head as he manoeuvres forward, lies her back down against the blanket. Large hands frame her face, fingers begin to comb through her hair, amber returns warmly to his eyes before his lips find hers again. They indulge in a slow, drawn-out kiss, a thorough exploration of lips, tongues and teeth that is all the words they need at this moment.

They have to break apart eventually, sighing at the loss as they recognise the need to return for the few duties they do have to attend to this afternoon.

When Cullen gets up, both their mouths drop open in shock as a sharp, ugly ripping sound tears through the air.

They gawk at each other, dumbfounded, before their eyes move down his body, then hers.

There is a patch of painfully pink, bare skin amid his chest hair where he had been lying against the remainder of honey between her breast-where she us now decorated with a small spread of fluffy, manly hair.

The flabbergasted silence is only broken by the shrill snicker of a mockingbird who might just have been watching them.

Then it starts slowly- in her eyes first, then his, a small chuckle that turns into a giggle then into hysterically loud, tear- jerking, bellyache-inducing, side-splitting laughter. For minutes they lie there, unable to do anything but cackle madly at their sticky little mishap.

Eventually they calm down. She wipes tears from corner of her eyes before accepting his hand to pull her up. She manages to kiss the sore-looking spot without allowing another burst of laughter to bubble up.

They share another smiling kiss before they get dressed.

Then they make their way back to Skyhold where they go about their business for the rest of the day- not, however, without raising quite a few eyebrows with their occasional giggle fits.


End file.
